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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!

William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Looks
Mark
Time
None
Sight
Second
Wonder
Stars
Silvery
Light
Twinkling
Look
Elude

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Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven.
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There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
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Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
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One impulse from a vernal wood
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Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
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Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
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Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
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For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
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Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
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Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.
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Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
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True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
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